


Let infatuation cure this resentment

by The Drunken Whaler (Nomlakie)



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Author is bullshitting whale magic, Emily doesn't take shit from anyone, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of child neglect, New tags will be added when needed, Ramsey is still an ass, Ramsey's backstory is mostly personal headcanon, Romance, Slow Burn, crack ship, mentions of gambling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomlakie/pseuds/The%20Drunken%20Whaler
Summary: While rebuilding the empire of Dunwall after Delilah's coup, Emily is given a second chance with the self-entitled Captain she locked away in her own saferoom in the beginning of it all. Her mind's set on what she wants to have happen, but things never really always go to plan, do they?





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I'm actually posting any of my fanfiction online, so I admit I'm kind of shy about it. But I hope you enjoy!

The gilded door of her office slid shut with a subtle clunk. For a time now she was alone, the rightful empress of Dunwall skulking over to the desk at the far end of the room, and heaving a heavy sigh as she slumped into the soft cushion of her desk chair. The city was a mess, the damage beginning to metaphorically seep through to the rest of the Empire. Several weeks of Delilah's corrupted reign had left a great deal of work for the young woman to handle, and Emily _resented_ her for it. The coup had been a low blow for sure, to both herself and to the morale of the common people; Emily's own attempts at helping repair what she could would hopefully help build a strong trust with the working classes, and instil a powerful faith in the strength and determination of the Empire. But even now, as the day began to draw to a close and evening started to encroach upon the land, her work wasn't done. Emily had spent the day physically repairing Dunwall, now it was time for the _financial_ side of the coin.

With great reluctance, the Empress was about to pull up several papers and begin the gruelling task of distributing funds, when a gentle knock on the door took her out of her thoughts. Too shy to be a servant. Too gentle to be a guard. The mysterious cause of the late night interruption prompted Emily to raise an eyebrow.  
"Enter!"  
Slowly, the door was pushed open by a tiny little wisp of a woman, who sheepishly creeped further into the room as the door was left to shut from its own weight. An entirely unremarkable person, Emily could only vaguely recognise her as one of the witches she had privately requested the help of. All the man-power in the world would still take weeks to achieve what the arcane arts had managed to do in mere days. And if not for them, Kaldwin didn't think she'd have been able to achieve anything, so her thanks for the small coven that had amassed in response to her request ran deep. But for the safety of the women, the entire affair was decidedly private, for the few witches that remained feared the power of the Abbey, and the terrible things the Overseers did to heretics. And what a shame it was now, that for the life of her, Emily could not remember the name of the girl before her, who looked like even a small breeze could knock her off her feet and who would probably tremble like a leaf at even the smallest sign of hostility. But of course it would not do to keep the witch waiting.  
"The hour's very late, are you and your sisters still working?"  
The gentle tone of Kaldwin's voice caught the girl by surprise, and she visibly calmed. "Not quite, your majesty. I'm... I'm very sorry for the late intrusion, I imagine you must be awfully busy..."  
"Not at all, you look as if you have something to tell me, by all means."  
"Well, we've managed to discover something wondrous, that my sisters and I felt you needed to know as soon as possible!"  
_________________________________________________________

"You've _what_?!"  
Such a reaction frightened the girl, and she looked as if she wanted to flee then and there. "W-We've discovered a way to dispel the stone curse Delilah had cast on your father, your highness."  
Standing from her seat, Emily pressed her palms against the surface of her desk, papers forgotten in favour of the news. Eyes wide with surprise and wonder, the woman found herself anxious to hear more about the discovery.  
"Well don't just stand there looking like a decorative statue, tell me more! How did you discover this? What has to be done? What happens when the curse is lifted?!"  
The girl backed up slightly, her cheeks flushed as she stammered over her own words. "W-well, you see, we... We discovered it by, by ah-... Well we noticed there were a lot of petrified people and, uhm... And we thought we might try to cure them, s-so..."

It felt like hours had passed, by the time the Empress has queried the girl on every little thing she could possibly think to ask, grilling the young witch for every last little morsel of information she knew. Which, in Emily's opinion, was a surprisingly large amount. But then, Delilah's magic was beyond something she could understand without having _experienced_ it for herself. And the poor, mousey girl before her was clearly all too thankful to be finishing up the interrogative conversation, rattling off the potential conditions a victim might be in once the curse was broken.  
"-a-and, well... One of the most common states they've been in is... Well, uhm... They've been terribly hungry and thirsty! Oh, but only after they've woken up! They-they're usually comatose for a few days at first...!"  
Emily had seated herself about two questions into the onslaught of knowledge she'd been prying out of the witch, and now her head nodded in acknowledgement as all the new information swirled around her head. A low hum resonated from within her chest as Kaldwin thought over the risks of utilising it, and of the _benefits_ , too. But a well placed sense of distrust nagged at the back of her mind.

"I need to see it for myself."  
"Ah- yes?" clearly the young woman was taken aback by the abruptness of the statement.  
"This ritual, can you perform it yourself?"  
This time, the girl did have an answer, though it was not one Emily had hoped for. "I-I'm awfully sorry, your majesty but... Well, I'm... I'm not strong enough on my own..." she must have looked very obviously disappointed, because the witch was very hasty to add, "b-bu-but! I could, I could get my sisters, and-... And we could perform it tonight!"  
While it was indeed disappointing in being delayed, the giddiness that came with knowing that she would still be able to witness this supposed miracle within the same night far outweighed it, and it took a great deal of Emily's self-restraint to keep herself composed.  
"Please do, I would like that very much. I must see this marvel for myself, with my own eyes. There is someone within my private rooms who was cursed by Delilah, and I would like to see him restored so he may _respectfully_ remove himself from my personal dwelling."  
With a clumsy, fumbling curtsey that Emily found rather charming, the young witch quickly excused herself to begin the preparations, scuttling out of the office with a seemingly relieved sigh as the Empress was left alone once again. Alone, with new knowledge in her memory, and a bitter afterthought occupying her mind.  
_And so I may deal with his betrayal more personally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I actually went ahead and edited this chapter because I didn't like how short it was, and the way it paced weirdly etc. I have to say I'm liking this version much more! The magic of editing! :D


	2. Chapter 2

The troop of witches stood within Dunwall tower's saferoom, surrounding the stone visage of the man responsible for the false empress ever getting within the empire in the first place. Mortimer Ramsey. Captain of the City Watch, and a selfish man obsessed with returning his family name to its 'former glory'. With the blood of Alexi Mayhew on his hands, Emily fully intended to have him executed as soon as he awoke. An eye for an eye, after all.

With her thoughts occupied on what she was going to do with Ramsey, the witches prepared the ritual site around his frozen form, hand still outstretched in victorious discovery. Despite her anger at him, Emily couldn't help but be amused and wonder at what it could have been that he'd found in that unfortunate moment. For a man usually so stoic in nature, cold and bitter in fleeting moments, he looked oddly animated. Uncharacteristically excited. And then the young witch from before turned toward her.  
"Your majesty, we're ready to begin the ritual, if you'd still like to watch."  
"Oh, yes, yes! Of course! Please, begin as soon as you can!"  
The ritual itself was rather uneventful. Very calm and gentle compared to the act that had cast Ramsey in stone in the first place. Surrounding him were whalebone charms and other assorted magical items, a lot of which Emily had never even heard of before, let alone seen. And the witches themselves formed a circle around that with their heads bowed, a low, rhythmic chant ringing around the room. As the chanting continued, small patches of light and colour began to form in random areas on the statue, growing in size and spreading like a lichen across the stone. Restoring him, his colour, his _life_ , to an otherwise doomed body. It continued on for several minutes, the chanting seeming never to end as the gentle glow had eventually spread over his entire form and Captain Mortimer Ramsey was once again alive, once again a human man.  
For a brief moment, the air seemed to hang still as the witches ended their ritual, before Ramsey started to breathe again and his eyes shot open in fear.  
  
But before Emily could demand he be taken to the dungeons for his trial and execution, the older man collapsed. His body and spirit exhausted from the curse and the energy needed to be freed from it. Sputtering in disbelief, and in some parts frustration at having her immediate revenge taken from her, the Empress flinched when the young witch placed a hand on her shoulder and looked down at the unconscious Captain.  
"It would be better to keep him here until he wakes, there may be some parts of him still trapped that will need time to catch up. He'll be ready when he wakes up."

________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had taken considerable effort to drag his dead weight to the bed within the saferoom. Emily had found herself wondering how Ramsey could move as quickly as he did with how heavy he was, and briefly pondered on whether he may have taken stimulants at some point. Hoisting him up and laying him across the soft mattress was no easy task either, and the woman didn't want to admit defeat by asking for help from someone. Her pride had already taken enough nicks and dents as it was, she didn't want to add 'admitting I was wrong about Ramsey's weight' to the list. But at last, she managed, through all the huffing and grunting and awkward grabs to stop herself from dropping him. Once Ramsey's prone form was laid down, Emily took a single bitter glance towards him. In truth, he didn't look overly comfortable, his head was resting at a funny angle and the woman was pretty sure he was lying on one of his arms. And so with a grumpy huff, she set about making him comfortable.  
  
First, she rolled him over onto his back and lay his arms beside him, lifting his head so a pillow could be nestled under it. Next, Emily cautiously leaned over his body, loosening the belts around his waist and chest. Then finally, a warm blanket was draped over Mortimer, which Emily endeavoured to tuck in under him to try and stop any movement while he rested. The entire ordeal took longer than she would have liked, having gotten stuck while trying to loosen his belts and having some small difficulty tucking the blanket underneath him in some places. But at last it was done. Pulling up a chair from the main room, the Empress practically crumpled into the soft seat cushion as a tired sigh left her. She may have had to wait for Ramsey to be punished, but she was _not_ going to risk him waking up while she was gone and escaping! So she was going to stay there, and watch him. Keep an eye on him until he awoke.  
  
The evening crawled on slowly. In fact time had seemed to take so long to pass that Emily had forgotten how long she'd been sat there, chin on hand and watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Ramsey's chest as he slept. How long she had spent just staring at him, eyes heavy, getting heavier as the drowsy call of sleep beckoned to her. So sweet, it was. So very tempting. To just close her eyes and drift off and forget about Dunwall, about the repairs, about Ramsey, for a few hours... The sweet, sweet respite of sleep...


	3. Chapter 3

Emily's eyes snapped open, with a slight gasp of surprise. She hadn't noticed when she'd fallen asleep, or how long she had been out for; but now she worried that Ramsey may have woken and taken the chance to escape, what with how opportunistic he was. The woman's gaze quickly shot to the bed she'd sat across from, anxiety immediately washing away as she found the Captain still lying there, unmoved from the previous evening and snoring quietly. Not quietly enough that it couldn't be heard, but it wasn't loud and obnoxious. Glancing to her right, Emily noted a side table had been placed beside her, with a tray of tea and food upon it. Thankful she'd neglected to close the saferoom door, the Empress quickly poured herself a cup and elected to sip it slowly, the food going ignored for the time being. She wasn't overly hungry at the moment anyway.

A sudden deep grunt from the bed made the woman flinch, her wide eyes watching Ramsey like a hawk as he shifted slightly on the mattress. But it was short lived as he settled down again. Seeing that he wasn't waking made yet another lump of disappointment well up in her chest. And an angry thought occupied her mind.  
_What if he never wakes up? That's hardly a worthy punishment!_  
She shook her head, punctuating her resolve with another sip of tea.  
_No, he will wake up._  
Looking over his sleeping form again, Emily couldn't help but notice how different the man appeared, when his features were smoothed by sleep and even the wrinkles of his brow were shallowed. And how it was almost hard to believe Ramsey spent most of his waking hours scowling at anything and everything, and being a general grump. The way the light from the furnace, which flickered and danced even now, left a warm pleasant glow in the little room; flecks of gold and bronze glittered in the man's hair, caught by the silver strands of his age.  
In any other circumstance, and perhaps even in that one, Emily might have considered finding him to be rather _handsome_.

A bark of laughter came from her, an unladylike sound that echoed out into the tall ceiling of the saferoom. That would be yet another thing to add to the ever growing list of reasons for the Empress to loathe Delilah: Causing her to ever have a chance of finding Mortimer Ramsey handsome. Still, of all the reasons on that hypothetical list, thinking of Ramsey as attractive was hardly the most despicable one that Emily had found and taken note of.  
"And come to think of it," she mused quietly to herself, "there's not really anything wrong with appreciating someone's appearance..." As she spoke, the woman looked over to the still snoring man, half expecting half hoping for a response. Of which there was none. "I genuinely hope you don't end up sleeping for days, Ramsey. This is going to be one _boring_ wait..."  
________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been a stroke of genius, really, to ask that her servant bring her the paperwork. It was dull, it was drab, but it was something to do. Of course initially her handmaiden had been confused on why the Empress would want to do her paperwork inside the royal saferoom and not her office, after the third run for more work (and another inkwell), the older woman had simply decided it was the better choice; at least the work was being done. And it also meant that Emily was too distracted to notice if anyone was eavesdropping on her one sided conversations with the Captain. Conversations that, to anyone other than Emily herself, were getting progressively more amusing to listen to as the hours ticked by.

Presently, the chatter had been interrupted by Kaldwin's fourth bathroom break that day. Standing upright once more, and rearranging her clothes so they once again settled properly on her frame, Emily made herself comfortable on the chair and propped her impromptu desk back up on her legs, picking up her pen and dabbing it in the half full inkwell.  
"But really, asking for the average wind speed velocity of an unladen swallow's _ridiculous_! You can't just say 'a swallow' because what if it's a specific _species_ of swallow? Or a specific age? It's just not that simple a question, you see?" Her question was met with silence, Ramsey having rolled onto his side some few hours ago into a position that stopped him snoring. After a pregnant pause, the woman simply started up again. "No, exactly! And like you said, that's not really common knowledge, and a bloody awful icebreaker if you don't actually know the answer yourself!" Again, no response as her quill scratched away on the papers.

The sun was beginning to set behind the Dunwall skyline by the time Emily had grown too bored of her work for the day. Too bored and too lonely with having only an unconscious man to talk to, as well as the brief visits from servants asking if there was anything she wanted. Now the woman sat in her chair, watching Ramsey with an unreadable expression. The furnace's flames were starting to die down now, the wood desperately needing to be stoked with fresh fuel. And the dying golden light bathed the room in an orange hue, making it seem deceptively warm. As she watched the older man, she tentatively chewed on a piece of bread she'd asked for an hour prior, her mind mostly occupied with the Captain.  
"You know," she spoke through a small mouthful, "I'm starting to miss your stupid quips, Ramsey. At least your humour would feel normal."

Once again, Emily couldn't help her gaze wandering over the Captain's sleeping body. His features were still slack and relaxed by deep sleep, though she could see he was beginning to sport a scruffy beard from where he hadn't had a chance to shave for the past few days; something she realised she had never noticed before, upon seeing his beard, was that he'd always seemed to have stubble regardless of the time of day. It'd made him look quite rugged.  
As she was thinking back to calmer, happier times, Ramsey began to shift about. Eyes caught by the motion, the Empress watched him as he grunted, sat up for a few brief seconds, and then the man flopped over onto his belly, his snoring muffled slightly by the pillow. Coarse looking silver hair grabbed her attention now. Emily might have been rather ashamed to admit that she'd always been a little curious as to how Ramsey's hair felt, a curiosity that was burning brighter and brighter the more she realised there was _nothing_ stopping her from finding out.

After sparing a quick glance around to ensure no-one was there, Kaldwin slowly reached out, open palm and fingers outstretched. Nerves told her she would have to react quickly if he woke up suddenly, but the more logical side of her mind put such worries aside in pursuit of sating her curiosity. And then her skin felt the sensation of touching hair, and Emily couldn't help the small, quiet gasp of surprise. Mortimer's hair was _soft_ , so so soft under her fingers, she just couldn't resist running them through the glimmering strands. Moving forward to sit on the bed, the woman was soon running both of her hands through the Captain's hair, massaging his scalp with her fingertips and prompting the older man to hum and sigh in content.  
"Your hair always looked so _rough_ and _coarse_ , Ramsey," she was speaking in a gentle whisper so as not to wake him, "but it's so _soft_ ~!"

Emily's ministrations were beginning to get rougher, and at a particularly hard stroke along his hairline, Mortimer arched his back slightly and let out a whimper, his eyes squeezed shut and the corners of his mouth pulled into a smile. The sound pulled Emily from her stupor just long enough for the woman to notice how dark the room had gotten now, the furnace smouldering and barely giving enough light to move around in. Slightly irritated that she'd have to leave Ramsey alone for the time being, Emily set about gathering more firewood to stoke the flames and warm the little bedroom area up again. She'd have all the time in the world to pet the Captain's hair after she could see properly again and she wasn't shuddering against the chill of night.


End file.
